Beating Up A Teenager Won't Solve All Your Problems
by SolarMorrigan
Summary: ..but it might make you feel better. Dipper should really stop asking Stan for advice, Ford is an enabler, and Mabel beats everyone to the punch. Cross-posted on Ao3. Uploading error has been fixed


A/N: Takes place in a magical timeline in which Weirdmageddon doesn't end badly and the twins visit Gravity Falls every summer. I can dream

-/-/-

It had taken a surprising amount of time for Dipper to actually catch Stan on his own. One or the other always seemed to be occupied by friends or family or tourists, but here he was, sitting at the kitchen table staring down at his fez. No Ford or Mabel or Soos or Wendy or anyone else in sight; just Stan. Dipper took a breath as he stepped up to the kitchen table, sliding into a vacant chair. "Hey, Grunkle Stan."

"Hey, Kid," Stan murmured, still eyeing his cap, "You'd think after three years your sister would've started to cool it with the glitter and shit. But look at this!"

Dipper couldn't help laughing as Stan brandished the fez in Dipper's face, the thing sparkling in the light. "To be fair, I don't think she did it on purpose this time. She dropped one of her bags of craft supplies on the counter in the shop; you probably put your hat down on a pile of glitter."

Stan grumbled, attempting to pick the individual shining bits off his hat one by one and failing miserably. "She should keep that crap outta the shop, anyway. I let her decorate half the exhibits already, isn't that enough?"

"With Mabel, enough is never enough. Lemme see," Dipper held his hands out for the hat and Stan shoved it at him with a sigh, "If I haven't learned how to get glitter off of things after 15 years, I don't know what I'm good for."

Dipper set to work carefully brushing sparkles off of the weathered fabric, hardly bothering to avoid his own clothing; it wasn't as though the attic wasn't stuffed full of arts and craft supplies, anyway. "So what're you doing hanging around here this afternoon? Figured you'd be out, bein' a nice day and all," Stan eyed Dipper carefully, "Wait, are you going through that teenage 'I hate the sun' phase? Did I miss that starting?"

"No," Dipper snorted, "I, uh- I was looking for you, actually. Wanted to ask you something."

"It's not if you can have Saturday off, is it?" Stan frowned, "Because Mabel beat you to it, and I need _someone_ to work the counter."

"What?" Dipper glanced up in confusion, then turned his attention back to the hat in his lap, "No, I don't have a problem working Saturday, I guess. I wasn't even thinking about that."

"Then whad'ya want?"

"Uh… y'know, just, had a… question." Dipper muttered, inspecting the tassel of the fez carefully for any remaining glitter he could pick out, attempting to forestall the embarrassment sure to follow his query.

"Cap's clean, already, yeesh," Stan yanked the object out of Dipper's hands and tossed it onto the kitchen table, "Now quit stalling. Ask me your question or stop wasting my time."

"I wanted- I wanted to ask your advice on how to ask someone out!" The words tumbled out of Dipper's mouth in a rush, louder than he really meant, but he pressed on, "And not just get their attention or get their number, but ask them on a real _date_. I really like this person."

"Didn't you have enough of a problem with the advice I gave you last time?" Stan raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well… it turned out okay in the end. Sort of. Hell, it gave me a little more confidence when talking to people about… y'know, stuff I don't know a lot about." Dipper shrugged, "It's just, the thing is, I can't ask Mabel because- well, her approach is a little strong. And I can't ask Grunkle Ford because I don't really think he goes in for the whole 'dating' thing."

Stan let out a bark of laughter. "You kidding? Poindexter has less experience with women than you do!"

At that point that Ford breezed into the room, heading straight for the refrigerator. "Romance is a pointless distraction." He stated, leaning into the fridge and extracting a can of juice.

Stan and Dipper stared for moment, Ford cracking the can open and taking a sip without so much as glancing their way. "…Good timing, though, I'll give him that." Stan said finally.

Placing his drink on the counter, Ford scrutinized Dipper. "This person you want to date, are they at least…" Ford looked away for a moment, as if searching for the appropriate word, "Intelligent?"

"Of course!" Dipper was quick to defend, "They're so smart, and we have the best conversations. Unlike some people in this town, they actually notice some of the things that go on around here. They pay attention, and they're… well, they're super fun to hang out with, we like a lot of the same games, and we've read a lot of the same books. It's like we've got so much in common and I just…" The teen trailed off, finally noticing that Ford seemed a bit perplexed and Stan looked like he was about two seconds from bursting into laughter, "I mean. Yeah, they're at least intelligent."

Ford hummed, grabbing his can and heading for the kitchen door. "Well… good." He nodded awkwardly before disappearing down the hall.

Then Stan really did burst out laughing. "Oh-ho man, kid, you've got it bad for this girl!" Stan guffawed, slapping his knee with amusement.

Dipper frowned. "Actually, they're… ah, just never mind. Do you have any advice or not?"

After a few more chuckles, Stan settled back in his chair, a thoughtful look sliding over his face. "Well, you could give 'em something. Did you think about getting some flowers? Girls love those frilly bouquets. Even the little ones, you don't gotta spend a whole lot."

"They're… not really the flower type." Dipper hedged.

"Hm. Chocolates?"

"Honestly, I don't really think they'd go for anything, uh, showy. Nothing grand or big-deal."

"That's great; low maintenance!" Stan pointed out with a grin.

"Yeah, I guess…"

"Look, how about this: did you ever think about just _talking_ tothem?" Stan asked finally.

Dipper groaned, letting his head fall back over the top of the chair. "Mabel's been telling me to do that for _years_. She doesn't get how hard it is for me to just walk up to someone and talk to them!"

Stan snorted. "Your sister's not always wrong, kid. Sometimes you just gotta be blunt. And if they have as much in common with you as you say they do, you gotta be _really_ blunt."

"Hey!" Dipper's head snapped back up, glaring in his uncle's direction.

"Callin' it like I see it, Dip." Stan shrugged unapologetically.

Dipper sighed. "Point. So… what, I just go up to them and be like 'Hey, I really like you, do you want to go to a movie sometime'?"

"Delivery needs a little work, but basically that, yeah." Stan levered himself up from the kitchen chair, grabbing his hat and placing it back on his head as he did so, "So, anything else awkward you wanna ask me?"

Dipper shook his head. "No, I think that was enough for today. Thanks, Grunkle Stan. And… maybe don't mention this to Mabel? You know how she gets."

"Sure. You've gotta sweep the whole museum, though."

"What! No way, the museum is huge!" Dipper snapped.

"Hey, my silence doesn't come cheap. Gotta pay me back somehow, kid." Stan grinned.

Dipper groaned. "Fine." He stood from his own chair and followed Stan towards the gift shop, "This is why we don't have more family bonding moments, y'know that, right? You keep ruining them by making people do chores for you."

"And I have no regrets." Stan replied easily, grabbing the broom propped by the door and passing it to Dipper.

-/-/-

Stan hated it when teenagers sighed. He vaguely remembered being a teenager at some point or another. He knew teenagers were full of _angst_ and _hormones_ and other undesirable things, but when teenagers started sighing, it usually meant some of the angst was about to come out. Still, family and all that…

Backtracking a few steps, Stan stopped at the kitchen door, where he'd heard the noise come from in the first place. Sure enough, Dipper was sitting in the very same chair he'd been in yesterday when they'd had their chat, slumped over the kitchen table with half his face obscured by his arms. Stan sighed—old people were allowed to sigh, they weren't full of angst, they were full of exasperation at the younger generations—and settled down at the table, himself. "Didn't go over well, huh?

Dipper mumbled something into his arms and Stan rolled his eyes. "Speak up, will ya?"

Finally Dipper lifted his head from the table and glanced over at Stan. " _Didn't go well_ is an understatement. They laughed in my face."

"Ah shit, that's harsh," Stan reached over and patted Dipper awkwardly on the shoulder, "I'm sorry, kid."

Dipper sighed again, sitting up in his chair, though his posture still held something of a defeated slump. "I just- they just kinda walked away. Like that was it." Dipper looked down at his hands, tracing familiar scars with his eyes as he spoke, "I feel like I just wasted all this time on this person I thought was a great guy and they turned out to be a jerk and…"

"Wait, hold up," Stand put up his own hand, halting Dipper's speech, " _Guy?_ "

"Uh. Yeah?" Dipper cocked his head. He knew Stan had been assuming he was mooning over a girl—that was heteronormativity for you—but Dipper had assumed that being interested in a guy wouldn't really be a problem. They'd all done weirder things, to be sure.

However, Stan's demeanor had changed dramatically in the past few seconds. Gone was the gruff sympathy and world-weary companionability, replaced with a harsher, tenser bearing. "Well, that changes things." Stan stated, a familiar spark of displeasure flashing behind his eyes.

Maybe Dipper had been wrong.

"Uh… it- it does?" Dipper was unable to look away, stuck in place by the sudden possibility that he had just come out as something other than heterosexual to someone who wasn't receiving the news very well.

"Of course it does," Stan stood from his chair and Dipper couldn't help the brief flinch, but Stan paid him no mind, starting instead for the kitchen door, "Ford! Hey, Ford, where the hell…!"

Stan cut himself off and stalked out of the kitchen, making for the staircase. Dipper remained frozen in place for another moment. What did Stan need with Ford? What was he shouting for? Was he going to tell Ford that they had to kick Dipper out? Did he seriously have that much of a problem with Dipper being- well, pansexual as far as Dipper figured, but he also figured it wouldn't make much difference to Stan if he was about to go tell Ford that they had to kick him out because he wasn't straight. The final thought kicked Dipper's brain back into gear and he tore out of the kitchen, finding Stan at the foot of the staircase, gesturing for Ford to come down.

Ford ran a hand over his face and quickly replaced his glasses. "I was asleep, what on Earth are you yelling…"

"You still got those taser glove things?" Stan cut in impatiently.

Dipper blanched. _Taser gloves?_ Wasn't that going a bit far? Dipper wondered vaguely if he should start running now, or if he was even actually able to move from where he was standing.

"What?" Ford raised an eyebrow at his brother.

"Y'know, those gloves you electrocute things with, like monsters and stuff. 'Cause I need 'em."

"Grunkle Stan, wait!" Dipper finally found his voice.

"Shut it, kid, I'm busy." Stan waved his hand at Dipper, still looking up at Ford.

"But- but if you…"

"What possible use could you have for my neutralizer gloves?" Ford asked as he reached the main floor.

"I gotta go beat up some teenage asshole in town."

Ford blinked. "Pardon?"

"Wait, what?" Dipper jerked in surprise, staring up at Stan.

"Yeah, teenagers are scrappy, I figured the gloves'd help." Stan shrugged.

Though it took longer than Dipper would've liked, he finally caught onto his uncle's plan, and the realization did little to calm the panic swirling in his chest. "Wait, Grunkle Stan, you can't just beat up Anthony!"

"Anthony, huh?" Stan tapped his chin thoughtfully, "Sounds like a prick. Where's he live?"

"He- wh- no! You can't just go beat someone up!" Dipper insisted.

"Unfortunately, Stanley's go-to plan has always been to get even with whoever's angered him." Ford sighed, "What did the boy vandalize?"

"Va- _Vandalize?_ He didn't vandalize shit," Stan huffed, "I don't know if he's ever even been to the shack and I don't really care. But he can't get away with humiliating my family!"

"Why not? _You_ humiliate me all the time!" Dipper threw his arms up in exasperation.

"That's different. I _am_ your family. _This_ kid's gotta answer for it."

Ford was looking over at Dipper now, ignoring Stan's rant altogether for the moment, and Dipper's embarrassment from earlier in the day returned under his uncle's scrutiny. "Your… potential date?" Ford asked finally.

"I… I mean, I just told him I liked him, thought he was… awesome. Asked if he wanted to go to a movie or whatever. And he just…"

"The little asshole laughed in Dipper's face!" Stand finished.

Ford frowned, looking from Dipper to Stand and back again. "Is this true?"

Dipper paused, the words caught in his throat. He didn't really hero-worship Ford anymore; he recognized the man had flaws, had made mistakes, and that realization had eventually strengthened their bond. However, that didn't mean his opinion didn't matter to Dipper; the teen wasn't sure how much to divulge, how much he _could_ divulge without losing his uncle's respect. Eventually, he gave in and nodded. It's not like Stan would shut up about it, anyway. "Yeah…"

"Well." Ford turned back to his brother, "Stanley, I can't allow you to use the gloves; there's enough juice running through them to bring down a horse, and I doubt murder is your objective."

"I guess not…" Stan admitted irritably.

Dipper released a sigh of relief. Finally, someone was being reasonable. Now maybe someone would just give him a consoling pat on the back and let him sulk in- "I have other, far less lethal tools we might put to use, though." Ford's words startled Dipper out of his hopes for a peaceful mope before they'd even fully formed.

" _What_?"

"Now yer talkin'! Lead the way!" Stan gestured grandly toward the kitchen, the shortest route to the basement lab.

"Grunkle Ford, you _can't_ be going along with this!" Dipper pleaded as he trailed the two men through the kitchen and into the gift shop.

"Hey, I told you before, it's not like Ford was exactly popular in school. I punched out a lot of people for him, too." Stan jerked a thumb at his brother who gave an absent hum of acknowledgement as he punched the access code into the vending machine.

"Okay, but I don't want you to punch anyone for me!" Dipper insisted, even as he followed his uncles down the stairs and into the elevator.

"Tough." Stan crossed his arms over his chest. Ford seemed to be going over a list of some kind in his head, his eyes glazed over.

"And anyway, why was it suddenly different when you found out it was a _guy_ who turned me down?" Dipper was pulling any line of reasoning he could grasp to stall.

Stan shrugged. "Can't go punch a girl, Dipper."

"Huh. That's pretty sexist, y'know. Girls can be just as capable as guys in defending themselves." Dipper pointed a finger at Stan as the elevator doors slid open.

"He has a point." Ford admitted, preceding them into the lab.

"Yeah," Dipper grinned, "I'm pretty sure Wendy could take you out."

"Fine, you want me to punch a teenage girl, then?" Stan huffed, "Because lemme tell ya, I know the Northwest girl is your friend now and all, but she still annoys the piss out of me sometimes."

The smile dropped off of Dipper's face, replaced with incredulous irritation. "No! No punching Pacifica! Or any other girls! Or Anthony, or- don't attack anyone, for godssake!"

"Well I'm not just gonna let that little punk get away with shit like that!" Stan insisted.

Dipper ground out a noise of frustration and glanced to where Ford had disappeared. The man was already buried head-first in a crate, shuffling around for something. _He_ certainly wasn't going to be any help. With a huff, Dipper flopped down in a chair in front of the computer console. "Y'know, why don't you ever threaten to beat up the guys that hurt _Mabel's_ feelings?" Dipper snapped after a moment.

"Two reasons," Stan held up a finger, "One, I love that girl, but she goes through more crushes than I do eyepatches."

Dipper tensed in his chair, ready to jump to Mabel's defense, but he had to concede Stan's point. Mabel was a hopeless romantic and a terrible flirt and you could bet that at any given point she was probably either nursing a crush or mourning the loss of one. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on whether or not you were presently trying to stop your two great-uncles from attacking a teenage boy in your honor), Mabel had always handled romance and _feelings_ better than Dipper.

Ford finally emerged from the crate he'd been digging in, some incomprehensible gadget in his hands, and headed for work table. "You know, you wouldn't lose so many of the damned eyepatches if you'd stop putting them down on random surfaces in the museum."

"They chafe!" Stan insisted.

"Then perhaps you shouldn't be imitating someone with a handicap in the first place." Ford shot back.

"It adds to my image!"

"Stan, just tell Dipper your other reason; he's about to start yelling again." Ford sighed, groping around on a side table for a screwdriver.

Dipper, who had been leaning forward in his seat, ready to interrupt, abruptly shut his mouth. "Right, right, okay," Stan waved his hands, "Point is, I can't really tell when Mabel's mooning over some new guy or upset about an old guy or if she's actually serious or what, so I just try to stay out of it unless it's an obvious problem- like this."

Dipper always knew what stage of crush Mabel was in, but he supposed that bit of information wouldn't help him right now. He allowed Stan to continue as the man held up a second finger. "Two, you always take care of it before I can even try! For someone arguing about not getting even for someone hurting your feelings, you've sure trapped a lot of teenage boys with some magical whatevers and left them in dangerous places."

"Wh- that- that's different!" Dipper insisted, "Mabel is my sister, I'm allowed to defend her! And the wards are always temporary, I never put them in real danger!"

"Except that one Manly Dan had to defend from getting eaten by a bear."

"That was an accident!"

"Sure, kid," Stan rolled his eyes, "Anyway, speaking of Mabel, she'd usually be gung-ho to go after this douchebag. Where's she?"

"Spending the day at the mall with Candy and Grenda and Pacifica," Dipper flopped back in his seat, "She doesn't know."

"Ah, well, more fun for me." Stan grinned, only pausing for a moment when Ford cleared his throat, "I mean us."

Dipper clapped a hand over his eyes, uncertain of what else to do. If there was one thing that ran strong in the Pines family, it was stubbornness, and whenever Dipper butted heads with Stan, Dipper still tended to lose. "Ah, that should do it!" Ford declared, holding up something that looked disturbingly like a ray gun for Stan and Dipper to behold.

"Grunkle Ford, please…"

"Don't worry, Dipper, the effects are temporary, certainly nonlethal," Ford paused, squinted at one of the bolts he'd adjusted earlier, and amended, "Very likely nonlethal."

Dipper groaned.

All the way back up the elevator and through the kitchen, Dipper badgered his uncles, citing every law and bylaw he could think of that might deter them from going out and beating up a teenage boy that had jilted their nephew.

"Blubs and Durland wouldn't know what to do with a crime if it came up and mooned them through the front window of the Sheriff's Station. Trust me." Stan chuckled.

Ford sighed.

"Look, you guys, don't think I don't appreciate what you're willing to do for me, but…"

"No, you look, kid," Stan stopped as they reached the back door, turning to jab a finger in Dipper's chest, "I've told you before that you need to stand up for yourself and fight back, right?"

"Yes! So why don't you just let me take care of this?" Dipper implored.

"No, hold on, I was going somewhere with this. I told you all that, but y'know what? Sometimes there are people who want to stand up _for_ you, and sometimes it's okay to let 'em. Especially when it means they get to shoot a cool ray gun at a teenager." Stan concluded.

Ford cleared his throat. "Well, it's not a ray guy, per se, it's more…"

Whatever the device was, Stan and Dipper never heard, as Mabel chose that moment to burst through the back door, trailed by Candy, Grenda, and Pacifica and looking considerably scuffed up. "Mabel!" Dipper tripped forward, inspecting his sister for further evidence of damage, "What _happened_ to you?"

"We threw Anthony in a Dumpster!" Mabel declared, holding her arms up in victory.

Dipper's eyes bulged. "What!"

"Yeah! He put up more of a fight than expected, but we got him to stay down eventually." Mabel shrugged.

"I punched him in the head!" Grenda added.

"Oh my God." Dipper's face went slack as he attempted to process the situation.

"Do not worry, Dipper," Candy stepped forward and patted the boy on the arm, "Anthony will not bother you anymore. And if he does, he will have to answer to us!"

"Oh my God."

"Uh… Dipper?" Mabel reached out and poked the boy in the chest, "Earth to DipDop?"

Dipper flailed his arms, warding off Mabel's prodding as he burst into speech. "Oh my God, I can't believe you guys did that! I- I should go check on him! I mean- Grenda punched him in the head! Where did you leave him, I can't…"

"Dipper, don't think about him! He's probably fine! And anyway, he was an asshole and deserved to be dumped in the garbage!" Mabel insisted.

"She's right. He was a prick." Pacifica rolled her eyes from the back of the group.

" _See_?" Stan threw his arms up in vindication, "Just by his name, I can tell!"

"But- but you can't just…" Dipper stuttered.

"Well, it seems that they already did." Ford's voice cut into Dipper's haze of panic, clean and concise, "Dipper, if there's one thing I learned a very long time ago about having a… protective family, it's that occasionally—very occasionally—it's best to just let them take care of you."

Dipper narrowed his eyes at Ford. "Are you sure you're not just saying that because you wanted to use that new gun?"

"Well…" Ford glanced around, "I'm saying it for several reasons, that doesn't make it less true."

Dipper sighed. "I guess…"

"Great! Accept that we have thrown Anthony into a Dumpster and let's move on! Oh!" Mabel turned and gestured for Candy to hand over a plastic shopping bag that had previously escaped Dipper's notice, "Wendy wanted to come back with us, but she was supposed to be doing a family bonding thing today and could only get away for a little while."

" _Wendy_ helped you?" Dipper's voice came dangerously close to cracking in disbelief.

"Yeah, she was awesome! Anyway, she sends her love and told us to give you this from her." Mabel reached into the bag and presented a quart of ice cream.

"Oh man, rocky road," Dipper found his hands wrapping around the offering despite himself, "This is my favorite…"

"Right? Now, c'mon. A broken heart calls for sappy movies. To the den!" Mabel gestured wildly, narrowly avoiding smacking Dipper in the face.

"My heart isn't _broken_ , Mabel. I'm just. Disappointed." Dipper shrugged.

Mabel frowned. Dipper dealt with crushes far less often than she did; she knew that when he fell for someone, he fell hard, and she hated to see him downtrodden. Something had to be done about it. "Well… still," Mabel put on a smile and slung her arm over Dipper's shoulders, "Broken, disappointed, whatever. We're having a movie night!"

"Yeah, let's get at the ice cream before it melts." Pacifica insisted.

"I… guess. But no romcoms!" Dipper stipulated.

"Oh, you don't know what you're talking about! Romcoms are the best!" Mabel shoved Dipper playfully towards the den.

"No, I mean it!"

"But you won't feel better until you're crying like a baby over the formulaic breakup and makeup of an onscreen couple!" Grenda insisted.

" _That,_ I need to see." Pacifica trailed after them, Candy not far behind.

As suddenly as they had come, the girls had gone, taking Dipper with them to settle in front of the TV with spoons and terrible movies, leaving Ford and Stan alone by the back door. Stan sighed.

"Well, that was an interesting interlude." Ford said finally, "I'm going back to sleep. Let me know if any other problems crop up."

"They're teenagers, Ford, they're walking problems." Stan rolled his eyes.

Ford dipped his head briefly, as if to cede Stan's point. "Fair enough. Let me know if anything requires my attention, then."

"Y'know, I was actually a little surprised you went along with this whole thing so easily," Stan turned to look at his brother, "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great. It's just not something I expected."

Ford shrugged, raising a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "Well… surely you don't believe that I dislike Dipper and Mabel?"

"What? I never said that," Stan snapped.

"Well you're always the one going to extreme lengths for them, and whatever you three go out doing, you always come back… laughing, or something." Ford waved his hand in a lazy 'et cetera' motion.

Stan cocked an eyebrow. "So?"

"So? So is it so bad that I wanted to actually be involved this time? I don't want anyone hurting their feelings any more than you do!" Ford insisted, "I admit, it would've been satisfying to be able to test my new invention on this Anthony character."

Regarding Ford for a moment longer, Stan snorted into a short bout of laughter. "If you wanted in, you should've said something sooner! Next revenge plot, you're the first guy I call!" Stan grinned, throwing his arm over Ford's shoulders, not unlike the way Mabel had dragged Dipper away moments ago.

Ford blinked. "Well- thank you."

"Ah, don't mention it."

Then, for the second time that afternoon, the back door swung open, this time admitting Soos to the back rooms of the Shack. He lit up and waved at the brothers as he entered. "Hey, Mr. Pines-es! I'm back from…"

"Soos!" Stan cut the man off leaning forward to point at him, "If some asshole laughed in Dipper's face when Dipper asked him out, do you think just dumping him in a Dumpster is enough?"

"He did what? No way, dude! He's gotta go though, like, three Dumpsters! At least!" Soos waved his arms emphatically.

"Exactly!" Stan grinned, "Hey, Ford, we're going out, after all. Bring your doohickey there, we'll test it out!"

Ford paused, glancing in the direction of the den, where he could still hear his niece, nephew, and their friends arguing. "Ah, don't worry about it. The kids know where the bail money is," Stan waved his hand, "Just in case."

"I would prefer not to get caught in the first place, if it's all the same to you. But if you already have bail money…"

"Great! Let's go!" Stan linked arms with Ford and led him out the back door, discussing with Soos which Dumpster the girls were likely to have left Anthony in.

Back in the den, Dipper looked up as the back door slammed shut. "Hey, where did Stan and Ford go?"

Mabel sighed. "Dipper, if I let you put on the Ghostbusters, will you quit worrying about stuff?"

"Yes," Dipper nodded, settling back against the foot of the old armchair with a grin, "Yes I will."


End file.
